Hope and the Force
by LegacyOfThePheonix
Summary: A young woman working two jobs suddenly finds herself immersed in her favorite fantasy. And rescuing Luke Skywalker himself is the least of her problems.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: Alright, you guys, you know I'm a Harry Potter nut, and you know that I've written for Calvin and Hobbes as well. SO here a little idea that turned into a dream and now I'm writing it all down. Except for when it goes to a really plot important point, (which will be notated as - --- - ) the entire story will be in first person.

_**Twenty-one standard years ago, in a galaxy closer than you'd think…**_ (**At the height of the Yuuzhan Vong war)**

Jedi Master Cilghal turned to her apprentice. "You never saw this," she murmured to the little Chadra-Fan, Tekli, as she moved aside a curtain in her laboratory. Inside the tank was a human fetus, roughly at eight months of development. Clearly a female, the child stretched as the two Healers watched.

"Is she Force sensitive?" Tekli asked in awe.

"My readings say yes, but I don't rightly know. She was engineered by Taun We, for an extraordinary fee, and I think that she might be our only hope against the Vong." Cilghal shook her large head, moving her eyestalks in a Mon Cal gesture of uncertainty. "I'm trying to send her to a distant planet, but the Force isn't guiding me in this. I'm not sure how to transmit matter like that. I'm sure Luke, or even Jaina could do it, if they were so inclined, but I don't think that I can ask either of them for it. Jacen, though…" Cilghal drifted off, already pulling her comlink from her pocket.

*-*-*

Jacen walked through the doors of Cilghal's labs, expecting to have more tests run on him. Instead, she showed him the fetus and asked for his help. Jacen closed his eyes, feeling eddies of the Force surrounding this child. Slowly, nearly unconsciously, he reached his hand toward her and both his and Cilghal's eyes were blinded by a violent blue light. When he could finally see, he helped the Healer to her feet. But she took one look at the tank and nearly fainted.

"Where's the child, Jacen?"

"I…really couldn't say," he replied, trying to feel the child in the Force; there was no trace of her, anywhere.

*-_-*-_-*

Somewhere far away, on a blue and green planet in a distant star system, a newborn child cried.


	2. Pathetically Addicted

Chapter 1: Pathetically Addictive

I opened my eyes as the first rays of dawn hit the sky. Great, another sleepless night. I looked at my bedside clock, which read 5:01 am in annoyingly bright characters and groaned. Christ, I had just laid down at three, and I was already awake. So much for trying to sleep the natural way, I guess.

"You know," I said conversationally to my battered ceiling, "as a child, I never really had an insomnia problem. And now look at me. I'm twenty one, I don't smoke, I'm single, I work two jobs and I get less than twenty hours of sleep a week..." I sighed, knowing that a hot shower might make me feel less like strangling the first person in my line of sight. So I trudged across my floor (why is bare wood always colder than the weather?!) and attempted, unsuccessfully, to ignore my cat as she wound around my feet and tried to trip me for forgetting to feed her.

"I'll feed you when I'm done," I muttered, shutting the door in her face. How on Earth does a cat look indignant, anyways? A few seconds later, she pawed at the door, rocking the loose hinges ad setting my nerves on edge. Running the hot water, I stepped into the shower and cleaned up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind my eyes. Wrapping a large towel around me, I opened the door, purposely letting my wet hair drip onto Lucy's head. She yowled and ran into the kitchen, sulking.

I had originally named her Lucivar, for a character she reminded me of out of a book1, but somehow it had changed in the past two years to Lucy. I grinned impishly as I poured cat food into her bowl. She looked between me and the cup of water on the table, and I gave up. I'd been tying to break her of that habit, but it never worked. I grudgingly put two ice cubes into it and closed the blinds. Dropping my towel, I spaced my feet apart, beginning a calming Tai Chi workout. Of course, I'd found out, the hard way, that when sped up, Tai Chi makes for a great defense.

I looked up as I went through the last phase of my stretches to find Lucy looking at me as if I'd lost my mind. (Which I had, several years ago, in a betting match against an old boyfriend.) Her furry expression of incredulity was so adorable, I scooped her up in my arms and laughed aloud. Her furry cheek rubbed against my chin, and I could feel the vibrations of her purring. Even though we argued and fought a lot, Lucy was my baby. She'd adopted me when I moved into the apartment, against my landlord's advice2, and we took care of each other.

Finally relaxed enough, I put Lucy down and slipped into an oversized T-shirt, looking at the clock, which now read 6:59 am. As the clock turned seven, I did some rapid calculations out loud. "Alright, so it's seven now. I have to go to class at five, and then go to work at midnight. So…Yeah. Lucy, wanna try to catch some zees?" I popped a little blue pill in my mouth, just an over-the-counter sleep aid, and went back into the bedroom. Laying on my side, Lucy pressed herself against my stomach and was asleep before I was.

*-_-*-_-*

I kept having the strangest dreams, I thought as I drove to the studio. I can't seem to make sense of them, but when I wake up there's this deep, gnawing ache to be somewhere else. I don't know where, but I must wanna go there pretty badly. I chortled, glancing in my rearview mirror to check traffic. Eight minutes, two narrow crashes and one scraped fender ("Get your head outta your ass and THEN drive!") later, I pulled into the studio parking lot. Carrying my black bag with me, I pushed the doors open and walked in on my partner and my manager arguing heatedly.

"Ah, Kitys, we were just, ah, discussing your last junior class," my manager smiled nervously and I immediately put my guard up. My partner caught my eye, and using a sort of code we'd developed last year, he told me that something was wrong. Dead wrong.

"What about it?" I asked cautiously, tightening my grip on my gym bag.

"We, ah, we got a call. About you, Kitys. From a boy named," Johnson consulted his legal pad, "A boy named Devon Royl. He said that…" Johnson blushed, and wouldn't look me in the eye. My heart sank as I remembered the lanky seventeen-year-old with two left feet. Mak, my partner of three and a half years, came to stand by me, still bristling with anger.

"And I already told you, _Reed_, Kit wouldn't do that!" Mak turned to me with his arm around my waist. "Royl is saying that he wanted to drop out of the class and you paid him to stay in it. Paid him with sex, Kit." His gray eyes bored into mine, and I knew he didn't believe it. Hell, I couldn't believe it. That slimy, no good little twerp!

Yeah, he wanted to leave the class, after I tossed him out on his arse for grabbing ass! And now _he_ was trying to say _I_ assaulted him?!

"That little twerp is lucky I don't press charges after what he did to me! He grabbed my ass, Johnson! Then I _threw_ him out of my class! For the next four days, everywhere I went, the kid followed me!" I leaned my head on Mak's shoulder, trying to find some sort of comfort in this topsy-turvy world Johnson had created for me.

"Well, still. Kitys, I know that it offends you - -"

"Damned right it offends me, Johnson! He's lying and you're going to believe him, over an instructor who's been here for…five years? Yeah, nearly five years." I grumbled, remembering the raise Reed had promised me two years ago.

"- - But as there were no cameras in your classroom, and we can't get in touch with any of your students, or else they choose not to comment, we're asking you to take a leave of absence." Johnson looked anywhere but at my eyes.

I stood stunned, leaning on Mak. "So. That's a polite way of saying I'm fired?"

"I never said that you would lose your job." Johnson stared determinedly over my head.

"Permanently," I snorted. "Fine, Johnson. You've wanted me gone since you took over from Leland two years ago. So you've got it." I unzipped my bag angrily and threw my practice shoes at him. One caught him right in the shin and I took savage pleasure from seeing his hop on one leg in pain. "Goodbye, Johnson. Hope you can find another Salsa Instructor good as me." I kissed Mak on the cheek and left without looking back.

Twenty minutes later, I was still sitting in my silver Cougar, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't believe it; the kid had promised revenge, but this? Losing my instructing job was definitely hitting me hard, as it paid better than the club did. I burbled a watery laugh as I blew my nose. Leland had set my salary at nearly ten dollars an hour. Leland, the big dance choreographer from Ireland. I'd fallen in love with his brogue, and kissed him one night, only to be called by his boyfriend the next day and cussed out for lipstick on his neck.

Leland wasn't strictly gay, but he'd been with the guy for years, so I couldn't really blame him. I got rid of my crush real quick, and Leland became one of my closest friends. He went back to Ireland two years back, handing the studio over to his pallid English cousin, Reed Johnson, whose main concern wasn't the dancing as much as the money. I'd never gotten along with Johnson; he was just one of those guys you wanted to punch in the face to save time.

I still got letters from Leland, and the occasional phone call, but not often enough. I sighed and wiped my nose with an old napkin. I was better than this. I had to be. With my procrastinating, I'd wasted nearly an hour, and I jammed my cold weather hating Cougar back onto the road, wanting only to get home.

It wasn't long, however, until blue lights were flashing in my rearview. "Just my fracking luck," I muttered, pulling into the parking lot that connected my apartment building. Pushing my hair back, I smiled once for practice and rolled down my window as a large, shiny belt buckle came into view. The officer leaned down.

"Ma'am, do you know how fast - - Oh, hey Kit." Mike, a regular at the club, smiled sheepishly. I relaxed a little, smiling a little more genuinely.

"Hey Mikey. What's up?"

"Well, you were going nearly seventy when you pulled in here, thought that was a little strange. Is anything wrong?" Mike's kind brown eyes bored into mine, refusing to let me lie.

"Nope. It's not that there's anything wrong, Mikey. Much more like there's nothing right." And without further ado, I burst into tears again. How embarrassing.

"Kit..." Mike reached his hand through my window, patting me awkwardly on the shoulder. It as no secret to the clubbers that Mike cared about me. And it was no secret that we'd been...together. But what most of them didn't know was that night was a mistake, that Mike was married, however unhappily, and that we were always friends first, uncomfortable attractees second.

"Mike, Johnson fired me. Downsized the Salsa department, however you want to put it. I no longer dance for a living." My sobs only got worse when I admitted it out loud. "He said that Royl," of course Mike remembered Royl; he'd threatened to beat the little punk with the soggy end of his legs when he stalked me, "filed a sexual complaint against me and since there were no cameras in my studios, he had to 'let me go.'" I sniffled, pulling out a wad of tissues from my glove compartment.

"I'm sorry, Kit. Want me to go talk to him?" Mike asked seriously; good ole Mikey would do anything for me. I shook my head and he smiled, kissing my cheek. Suddenly, I knew what I would do. I gave Mike a watery smile and got out of the car. Dashing upstairs, I pulled on my best flirting dress. It was emerald green, velvet (which clung to my curves like you wouldn't believe), and had two splits up the side to the thigh. Tossing my hair, I gave Lucy a distracted pat and ran back downstairs, heels in hand.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked, trying to conceal his urge to stare. I knew my body was good; hell, five years of constant dancing had toned and slimmed me to the point that I got envious stares from gay men. I patted his cheek and told him I"d meet him at the club in two hours. Whipping out my cell, I called Mak, who was _still_ arguing with Johnson, and told him to meet me at the club **now**.

- --- - --- - ---

"And...slide, yes, then back step, circle, side step. I jump," grunting only barely as Mak's strong arms held me, "and then...Lover's Twist..." I twisted my rather short legs around his left thigh. Mercy, my best friend since freshman year of high school, stared as she prepped for the nightly rush. My shoes slid almost as well on the club floor as they did on a dance floor.

"Think you got it?" I asked Mak, sliding down his leg sensuously. He gulped and nodded, helping me to my feet.

"You know," Mercy said slowly, eyes to the Black Palm bartop she'd insisted on, "I don't think there's going to be one person on that floor tonight who's not gonna get hot under the collar." I smiled evilly.

"That's what I'm counting on."

- --- - --- - ---- -

That night, after a slight intro by the house band, "Dragon Descended," Mak took his place on the far side of the cleared dance floor. I waited in the shadows, moving sinuously with the slow bluesy jazz. My cue came, and I danced across the floor, my feet nearly a blur. I leapt high, and he caught me around the waist, sliding my shoes across the floor as I threw my loose hair back. I caught one of the patrons' eyes, and he swallowed a sip of his beer, watching every flash of leg my dress showed.

Finally, the finale of the Lover's Twist, and I slid down to the floor, breathing hard. Mak looked down at me and smiled, helping me to my feet to thunderous applause. "I think I speak for everyone," the lead singer drawled, "when I say 'get a room.'" I flipped him off behind my back and heard his bandmates laugh. I had known them since high school too, when they still practiced in a garage.

As Mercy had predicted, every man now had a hungry gleam in his eye, and every women used every movement to maximize her attractiveness. I smiled into one of the many beers suddenly appearing on the bar; Mercy laughed ruthlessly as she rang up beer after beer the men bought for me.

- --- - --- - --- - --- - ---

After being dropped off that night, (Alone, sadly) I dropped my heels on the floor and made my way to the bathroom. After showering, I pulled on my favorite, if holey, pajamas and curled up with Lucy on my bed. She kneaded my legs and purred away, finally drifting off to sleep. As for me, however, I had a harder time. The silence of night was getting to me.

I often had moments like this, where I would feel completely out of sync with my world. Like there was something else I was supposed to be doing, somewhere else I belonged. It certainly hadn't been either of the foster families that had tried to adopt me. My smile grew bitter as I recollected them, those ones who had tried to take me from the orphanage.

"You know, Lucas, it's not fair that you made your series pathetically addictive," I mumbled to my favorite film writer.

Sighing, I gave in, and turned on the last DVD in the player. A few minutes of promos and then the sound that relaxed me: Star Wars theme blared from my speakers. Closing my eyes, the tension left me and I felt the heaviness of sleep begin. It was episode six, I think, as I listened to the clash of lightsabers and smiled in my sleep. Little did I know that dreams could turn to nightmares without any warning from Fate.

- --- - --- - --- - ---


	3. Cosmically Ironic

Chapter 2: Cosmically Ironic

That's strange, I thought as my mind unwillingly drifted back towards reality. I know the DVD should've turned off by now. There were sounds that made no sense. I could sill hear lightsabers clashing, but they sounded rhythmic, and distant, and there was a murmur of voices as I stretched. _Gotta be some sort of strange dream_, I assured myself, and sighed deeply. I could still feel Lucy's purring, warm body curled up on my side, and I could still feel the covers of my bed.

But what caught my attention, what truly made me wake up, was the pleasantly high-pitched sound of an R2 unit right by my head. I opened one of my eyes blearily and yelled, startled. Lucy dug her claws into my side, ducking under the covers and I nearly fell out of my bed.

Yes, I was still in my pajamas, still in my bed, still with my cat, with my laptop still under my pillow but I was not in my room. The place had the sterile feel of a lab, and there was an unpleasant pounding at the back of my head. _Not now, please not now,_ I begged my brain, feeling the migraine coming on strong. I whimpered and lowered the covers, cringing when the blue and white dome swiveled to get someone's attention.

_This can't be happening. I've finally gone mad. I'm probably sitting in my room, sucking my thumb and babbling to anyone who will listen cause this is all happening in my head and I've gone crazy and I am soooo psycho right now and now I'm gonna die old, crazy, ugly and all aloooone!_ I wailed in my own head, curling into a ball around my cat, crying.

"Miss?" a timid voice asked. I opened my wall of cover enough to see a young girl, in brown robes, with a silver cylinder clipped to her belt. "Miss, are you all right?" The droid whistled sharply, as if to say, "Duh, of course not." The little girl backed out of the room, eyes still locked on mine, muttering something about fetching someone; I felt marginally ill when I heard the name. A few painfully clear seconds later and a large, fishy looking female came in.

"At last..." she murmured deeply, stopping at the foot of my bed. "At last you've returned."

"At last?" I croaked. "More like at last I've finally lost my mind, Cilghal."

"You know me?" she asked, obviously surprised and hiding it poorly.

" No. What I know is that you might be Jedi Master Cilghal, a Mon Calamari, who happens to be the first of Healers trained on Yavin 4 by Luke Skywalker at the Jedi Praexum. I also know that you're a character from a fictional book series, and that I must've finally lost the rest of my marbles. I know so much about this galaxy it's not even funny." My voice grew bitter. "I know about everything, and there's no more room inside my head for reality, so I've finally gone crazy...I wonder if they'll put me in a padded room, or in a ward?" The Mon Cal swiveled her eyestalks in distress, and I knew how she felt. My mind was gone. Not just blown, not just in shock, but _gone_.

"Perhaps..." the Healer began uncertainly, "perhaps we should get you relaxed..."

"Touch me, Tuna Breath, and I'll knock you from here to the next star system!" I pulled my hand out of her grip, and ducked back under the covers. "'M not going anywhere," I mumbled childishly.

It was cosmically ironic that as a child, I used to wish so hard to wake up in one of the Star Wars scenarios. Now that it had happened, I just wanted to go home

"Although I could use a shower..." I said tentatively. The Healer nodded immediately, and helped my stiff legs walk until the kinks worked themselves out. She chattered at me as we walked around, and soon, I realized that her diplomatic skills must really b getting a workout if she was able to even form sentences at that point. I mostly grunted, feeling less and less human.

A shower set me straight, though, when I found out that I didn't know how to turn on the hot water. So I bathed quickly, freezing my arse off and shivering stubbornly, because I was determined not to ask for help. I didn't need them, and even though I was still shivering as I stepped back into the hallway, I wasn't so far gone that I didn't notice the golden humanoid waiting for me. I felt dingy next to this shining thing, even though Cilghal had lent me some of the brown robes that seemed so common around, and I recognized the flashing orange eyes and the slightly off-color right leg.

"3PO?" I asked, feeling my heart begin to sink to my toes.

"How did you know that?" The droid tilted its, his, head and looked at me. "Never mind. I forgot, we are dealing with the Force after all. Though heaven knows why I let Miss Leia talk me into these things and now I don't even..." I tuned the droid out. It seemed that he really did talk too much. Good thing that I was unarmed, because I'd probably have blasted his vocals out.

"Is there a point to you standing outside the 'freshers?" I asked dully.

"Oh, good heavens, did I forget to mention? Master Cilghal wishes for you to walk around the gardens, she says, until you have 'regained your peace.' Whatever that might mean. I mean, really," the droid looked at me again. "Really,these blasted Jedi have to stop being vague. It's very confusing to those of us not on friendly terms with guiding forces!" I carefully stifled a laugh behind my hands, and turned towards the hall where I could see the most green.

I knew that if I started laughing, I might never stop.

- - - -

It frightened me that the Jedi could read me, seeing as they weren't supposed to exist. Of course, if they were really, as I feared, just figments of my imagination, then they should be able to read me. Right? I was confusing myself.

But regardless, the sight of the greenery did comfort me, as much as could be expected. I got to the point that I actually removed my shoes and sat in the unfamiliar dirt, digging my fingers through it again and again. I heard her come up, though. It seemed that my nearly unnatural instincts finally found a purpose in this fantasy. I expected her to yell at me, maybe even have me arrested for digging in royal dirt. If there was such a thing. But what she did shocked me, thoroughly. She, too, took off her shoes and sat right beside me. There was a sense of contentment around her, and my shoulders unwillingly relaxed.

"Are you going to punish me?" I asked, not looking up.

"No. I figured sending 3PO to you was enough punishment for a few days." God, her voice even _sounded_ like Carrie Fisher's. A lovely, elegant voice, tailor-made for politics, with just a hint of amusement.

"You can say that again," a male voice drawled.

"Han!" she said sharply, before turning around to dig through the dirt again. ("Oh, sure, _you_ can say, but _I_ can't," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the pillar leading to the entrance of the building.) I combed the soil with my fingers, letting them explore the plants there. "Why are you out here, if I may ask?"

I snorted derisively. "You're asking me why I'm in your garden? You, Leia Organa Solo, mother of Jacen, Jaina and Anakin Solo? You're asking for my permission to question me? It's your dirt. Cilghal said that the foliage might soothe me, so I decided to follow up on a vain hope," I mumbled. "And I don't know why I'm here."

I finally looked at her, and saw a much kinder face than I had expected. Feeling oddly like a small child again, I shrugged one shoulder. "Dirt is dirt, you know? I figured that if I could find something small to relate to, like the dirt here, then I could build my way up to maybe passing for human. No guarantees though."

She nodded as if she'd expected such an answer. "That makes sense. As you said, dirt is dirt." She chuckled quietly, and I could hear the sadness in her voice.

"You miss them, don't you?" I asked suddenly, knowing it wasn't my business. She stiffened a little, but I could sort of feel the air around her change and she relaxed again.

"Of course. Cilghal warned me that you might...know...things. It still surprises me, I suppose. And yes, I miss my sons. But..." she left off, a question hanging silently in the air between us.

"What do you want from me, Lady Solo? Lady Organa Solo? Jedi Solo? I don't even know what to call you. I don't know what to tell you. Anakin died a hero, just like his namesake. He sacrificed whatever he had to, just like Anakin Skywalker. And Jacen, though he chose the path he did, well, it wasn't entirely his fault." My breath came tumbling out, chest heaving as my white knuckles edged deeper into the ground.

"What do you mean that Anakin Skywalker died a hero?" her voice was barely above a whisper. I sighed pityingly and tried to organize my whirling thoughts.

"Didn't your brother ever tell you what happened?" When she shook her head, I gave up and brushed my borrowed robe off. "Vader was seduced by the dark side, but not for bad reasons, Ms. Organa Solo. He'd had a terrifying vision of his wife dying in childbirth, and he sought a way to save her from her fate. And you know, I really pity him. Because he might've been The Chosen One, or whatever bantha bull the Council was spouting at the time, but they pawned him off to a Jedi who wasn't even a Master, had never had a Padawan and was still in mourning for his mentor, and then tried to tell him that even though they refused to give him proper guidance, or proper training, he was wrong. That was what it came down to: He was wrong and they were right." I took a shaky breath, and watched her cool brown eyes measuring me.

"Anakin Skywalker was a good man. He just happened to be human, and not quite Jedi material. He fell in love, and married, and then went off to war. He had terrifying visions, and no one could tell him that they were just glimpses of a future _that could be._ The council was afraid of him, afraid of what he could do, and so instead of guarding the treasure they'd been given, they ignored it and hoped that be foisting it off on someone else, it would go away. But it didn't. Palpatine left Anakin no choice at the end. Anakin hated him, but was still forced to serve because he'd unknowingly burned every single bridge he'd ever had. He couldn't go home, not with the dark side raging, if unwillingly, through his body. His mentor, brother and friend had deserted him in his darkest hour, and Palpatine had warped his visions to the point that he even turned on his own wife, the woman he'd have moved the galaxy for." Tears were streaming down both of our faces, but it didn't matter, because giving her peace of mind was something that I'd always dreamed of. And even if it was just a fantasy, or a cruel joke my mind was playing on me, I had to try.

"His visions turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy, Leia. Because he tried to save her, he ended up condemning her. And when she died, when Anakin lay dying in the lava flow of Mustafar, and watched Obi Wan Kenobi walk away from him as he was screaming for help, the Force shifted. Anakin buried himself beneath the flow of darkness, because it was easier to run from his pain, to become a monster, than to face it. And then Obi Wan came to your mother, and seperated you and Luke. So yes, I suppose you could that I 'know things.' And when your brother managed to find the good in him, when Vader finally turned back into Anakin...It redeemed him. Luke saved him, from himself, and he was able to die knowing that he'd saved his son, and ended a reign of terror. He died as a man, and a proud one at that. And Anakin Solo died to save the Jedi from those damned Vong beasts, the ones they cloned to hunt Jedi. He died, having barely tasting love, and he died knowing that he was fulfilling his destiny. He - - " I broke off, unable to continue. Her breathing was less than soothed, at that point, but she met my eyes easily. And I saw a strange kind of glow in them; it was the look of acceptance. A look of peace. Somehow, the aura of peace was better then the sense of contentment she'd had when she entered the gardens. Her eyes turned quizzical as she noticed the tears I was crying.

"Are you alright?" she asked me. I laughed quietly, still half-sobbing.

"No. I was ripped from everything I've ever known, and thrust into this world with nothing but my cat and the clothes on my back, and I don't know why. I don't know why I can suddenly _feel_ everything around me. I can feel your peace, I can feel your husband's skepticism, I can feel the wind currents moving here. I can feel the earth singing to me, and I can feel the crush of billions of people. And it's so entirely overwhelming, that I'm lost!" I completely broke down crying at that point, and the next thing I remembered was two arms around me, smelling sweetly of flowers and clean clothing, and this energy flowing into me, calming me. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep again, my fingers still encrusted with dirt that wasn't so different from home.

- - -

When I woke up, there was a man by my bedside. As I focused my blurry eyes on him, I recognized the craggy, but still handsome features of Han. He was snoring gently, and it was easy to pretend that he wasn't there as I slipped my battered fuzzy slippers onto my feet and got up.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked, startling me so badly that I tipped over, crashing back onto the bed.

"You were asleep," I accused, dodging the question neatly.

"No, I was waiting for you to wake up. Leia said to keep an eye on you." He motioned to his eyes, and smirked, clearly ready to continue his thread.

"SO," I interrupted, not caring about being rude anymore. "...Let me guess, you're keeping one on me and sparing the other in case I go psycho? Believe it or not, I'm not from Lusankya, so I doubt that there's a trigger somewhere in my mind."

He just stared at me, dropping his hand. "She was right..."

"About?" I felt rather waspish about the entire situation, and my temper was never good when I had just woken up.

"You really do know things." I snorted again and crossed my arms, in typical Why-am-I-not-impressed fashion.

"Gee, what was your first clue, Sherlock?"

"Who?" he looked at me like I was crazy, which I more than likely was. Sighing, I shook my head and laid back down, fuzzy slippers and all. Lucy poked her head out from under the covers, blinking sleepily; she'd probably just slept the day away, but just then, I needed her presence more than ever. She mewed in surprise when I wrapped my arms around her thick frame, and cuddled her close to my nose, inhaling the gentle, fading scent of home from her fur.

Han looked at me, and sighed in resignation. "Cilghal should be back soon, something about more tests, and a datapad for you. I don't know much around here, being that I'm the only non-Force user here, except for you." He smiled crookedly, and even though he was craggy and old enough to be my father, I felt my heart beat a little faster. _Han Solo just smiled at me..._

"Actually, dear, Cilghal won't be back right now, I do have a datapad for her, and she's a Force User too, so you're still all alone in that regard." Leia smiled warmly at her husband, who'd just given her a look of complete betrayal. The Jedi slid the datapad into my hand, and I looked with interest as the screen began flashing. There was a stylus in the back of the 'pad, and she pulled it out.

"Cilghal noticed that you didn't seem to recognize the exit, and she thinks that even though you speak Basic, you don't know the characters of it. So she had one of our slicers program a little test for you, to keep you entertained while she tries to solve where you came from." The Jedi smiled warmly, and I felt that odd connection again; the back of my head began pounding again.

Flopping backwards, she must've felt something as well, and in a flash her hands were centered on my temples. "What's wrong?" Han asked, half-standing. She shook her head, irritated with my fading consciousness.

"I don't know. Her brain feels like it's pulsing, like it's suffering, but I can't figure out why." Leia's voice got farther away, or so it seemed, and my vision began to blur. "Cilghal, get down here NOW!" I realized vaguely that she must've taken out a comlink, but it didn't matter. The pain battered me down this time; I couldn't fight it again. Slowly, I sank into the deep darkness, where the red and purple waves of agony couldn't touch me.


End file.
